


Void

by Deeranger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blackmail, Dark, Death Threats, Don't Like Don't Read, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil Dean Winchester, Forced, Heavy Angst, Hurt Sam Winchester, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, One Shot, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Sam Winchester Gives Oral Sex, Smut, Tied-Up Sam Winchester, Violence, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 08:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16281104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeranger/pseuds/Deeranger
Summary: Sam finds himself chained to a chair, held captive by none other than his brother. But what Dean wants from Sam he cannot even begin to imagine. Not until the older Winchester reveals his true intentions and forces Sam to cooperate.





	Void

**Author's Note:**

  * For [palishere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/palishere/gifts).



 

 

 

”Sam, you know I won’t hesitate to use this, right?”, the gravelly voice said lowly.

 

Even though he didn’t want it to show Sam couldn’t prevent a tiny tremble from revealing itself as the knife’s silvery tip dug into his bottom lip. Despite his efforts to conceal his fear a treacherous twitch rippled through the tender flesh of his upper lip, letting his captor know that he indeed was terrified.

 

”You’re gonna do just as I say,” the voice continued, the tip of the pointy knife dully dragging against Sam’s lip. Motionless and frozen completely in the chair Sam felt like he could do nothing but watch his brother as he continued to play with the knife, letting it travel back and forth across his lip threateningly.

 

”Aren’t you?” Dean asked, nudging the tip of the knife’s blade just a little bit further into the vulnerable, pink flesh. Just to emphasise his point. Sam’s breath hitched and he fought his body’s sudden urge to fling itself backwards and away from the weapon and his brother wielding it. But he didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t dare. Instead he focused on his brother whose facial expression was a stern mask of self-proclaimed authority and ominous superiority, emerald eyes sharp and locked on its target. Determined. Focused.

 

“I believe I asked you a question,” Dean said, voice low and monotone. With anger clearly present in his voice, he lifted the knife just enough for Sam to be able to speak without the blade cutting into his lip as a result.

 

Sam knew that he would have to conjure up some sort of answer or reply to his brother’s question – or he would definitely not be walking out of here in one piece. If at all. The rage burning in Dean’s glare had his blood running cold and every tiny hair on his body was standing up straight. Swallowing the lump caught in his throat Sam looked up at Dean, trying his best to stop his glance from straying from his brother’s face to the knife which was still hovering just above his lip.

 

“Dean, don’t…! I-I don’t know what you want-“ Sam began, but he was abruptly interrupted when the knife was suddenly pressed against his throat.

 

“Yes or no, Sammy?!” Dean hissed, a thin mist of saliva spraying into the air to accompany the question. Automatically Sam stilled completely, every muscle stiffening in an attempt to stay motionless and passive when the knife started moving to slide its tip down the side of his neck. Holding his breath Sam fought not to avert his gaze from Dean’s.

 

“I… I… Yeah,” he stuttered, trying to tell his brother what he apparently wanted to hear. The knife kept travelling down the side of his neck nevertheless, exploring and circling the skin in elaborate patterns as it went. A small smile formed on Dean’s lips and a tiny crinkle appeared around his eyes, the familiar crow’s feet spreading just like they usually did when he was laughing whole-heartedly about something. But the look in his eyes was still stormy and dark, not following suit at all. Sam swallowed a new lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.       

 

“Good,” Dean just said, his lips curving a little more and forming into a weird copy of a smile that just didn’t look right. Sam was still holding his breath, not daring to move while the blade was dragging across the sensitive skin on his neck, threatening to slice through it at any moment like it was butter. Sam had held that knife himself. He knew how sharp it was.

 

“Let’s play,” Dean smiled, moving to stand behind Sam but not letting the knife lift itself as much as a fraction from its target. With the blade still pressed against the younger Winchester’s throat Dean grabbed the chains binding Sam’s wrists together. The metallic rattle which followed let Sam know that he had to be either freeing his trapped arms or somehow re-arranging the restraints. He recognized the sound of a lock. With his heart hammering frantically in his chest Sam tried to clear his mind of the panic which was threatening to invade it and cloud his judgment. He wanted to act. He wanted to kick himself into action so badly, yet still he knew that it would only make matters worse should he do so at the wrong time. The blade was still pressing against him, lingering on his skin like a viper ready to strike. But maybe if he could just land one good punch he would be able to stun his brother enough to…

 

“There - all set,” Dean smirked and in the same moment there was a clicking sound. To his horror Sam realized that the chains had been locked once more. That was the only possible explanation he could think of that corresponded with the sound he had just heard. What was going on?

 

“Now kneel,” Dean suddenly said. For a few seconds the command just hung in the air while Sam was trying to process what was happening. Eyes widening he looked up at his brother who had moved to stand in front of him again.

 

“What?” Sam croaked, trying to avoid getting cut on the blade which was still pressing dangerously hard against his throat. Dean tilted his head, glaring at him. Something about that movement made Sam think of a curious canine – how it would look just before it would attack its prey.

 

“You heard me,” Dean just said flatly, now tapping the blade against Sam’s Adam’s apple. He was growing impatient and his face clearly revealed it, lips tight and eyes blazing. Snapping for air Sam tested his restraints carefully – only to realize that his arms were no longer chained to the heavy, wooden chair he was sitting in. They were still fixed behind his back though, leaving no room for fighting back against his crazed brother.

 

“Dean… Listen to me. You have to stop. You have to let me-“ Sam started, but a quick nudge with the knife made him let out a muffled hiss when the tip of the blade breached the skin just below his jaw line. Dean’s eyes narrowed as his gaze followed the single drop of blood slowly trickling down his brother’s throat.

 

“Kneel,” Dean repeated. His grip around the knife was firm, not wavering in the slightest. Instead the pressure was slowly increasing, the edge of the blade pressing against that vulnerable spot on Sam’s throat which would serve as a killing blow should he decide to let the knife sink in.

 

Sam’s nostrils flared in a mix of fear and contempt. He was fully aware that his brother was not bluffing. So with his heart galloping and seemingly trying to beat its way out of his ribcage he started to slowly move out of his seat. His legs were tingly and semi-numb from being stuck there for so long and he had to concentrate in order not to stumble and maybe get his throat slit in the process.

 

“Alright…!” Sam said, his voice sounding a lot more panicked than he intended it to. Carefully and very slowly he sunk to his knees in front of his brother, the chains around his wrists giving off a hard clank as they hit the dirty cement floor. The knife followed him down, never leaving his skin. Discretely Sam still tested his restraints, pulling at the chains trapping his hands behind his back. But the metal didn’t budge.

 

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Dean asked, his voice malicious and taunting. Sam didn’t answer. He didn’t want to dignify his brother’s remark with any kind of response and possibly spur him on.

 

“You should really comply more often, Sammy. It suits you,” Dean continued, a smirk decorating his lips as he spoke. Again he tapped the knife against Sam’s throat.

 

“Yeah, you’re right where you should be now,” Dean smiled, angling the knife a little differently and pressing its tip right at Sam’s jugular vein, making him screw his eyes shut and hold his breath. Dean let out a small chuckle.

 

“At my feet,” he added. The tone of his voice had turned deeper and darker than before, his gravelly voice slightly hoarse and carrying with it an eerie promise which Sam didn’t at all like. In fact it made his blood run cold, chills ricocheting up and down his spine and leaving him breathless. Carefully Sam opened his eyes, looking up at his brother towering above him.

 

“Dean, this isn’t you! This isn’t… Please… Please, just let me help you-“ he began, but before he could finish a strong hand grabbed a hold of his collar, yanking him a bit closer. Sam let out a gasp. For a split second he was certain that the knife had pierced him, but Dean’s skills with a knife were masterly and not once did the blade bounce against his skin to cause any further damage.

 

“Oh, I’ll let you help me,” Dean snarled and let go of Sam’s collar. For a moment Sam was confused, unable to decipher the look on his brother’s face or figure out what his strange remark might mean. Dean smirked and slowly retracted his hand, letting it find its way to the zipper in his jeans.

 

“I’ll let you help me real good, Sammy,” he said in a breathy voice as he grabbed a hold of the pull tab on the zipper, sliding it downward in one smooth movement. When the sound hit Sam’s ears his glance instantly flicked from Dean’s eyes down to settle on his brother’s now open fly.

 

“You think you can do that?” Dean taunted, slipping his free hand into his briefs. Wide-eyed Sam stared back up at him, not believing what he was seeing. Was this even real? Snapping and heaving for air horror rippled through him with such a speed that he was unsure if he was going to pass out. This couldn’t be happening. This was too surreal.

 

“What’re you…?” Sam started, but it came out as nothing more than an almost inaudible whisper and he trailed off, trying to fight the pull when Dean’s hand moved from his briefs to grab a hold of Sam’s hair, yanking him closer. But the knife was still against his throat, the blade threatening to breach more skin if Dean should decide to apply just a tiny bit more pressure - so Sam had no choice but to follow the tug, ending up pressing his face against his brother’s exposed briefs.

 

“Dean…!!?” he yelled, voice muffled against the cotton of the soft underwear. Instantly the smell of sweat and musk reached his nostrils and bile rose in his throat, threatening to make him sick right then and there.

 

“Quiet!” Dean barked above him, tightening the grip on his hair. Sam flinched, but a slight poke of the knife stilled him. Slowly Dean started grinding himself against Sam, rubbing his already hard erection against his face through the thin fabric of the briefs.

 

“Now I want you to suck it,” Dean grunted, the lust in his voice unmistakable. Sam automatically cringed, trying desperately to ignore the urge to throw up or fight back – all while trying avoid the knife cutting into his skin at the same time.

 

“Don’t make me tell you twice!” Dean snarled, finally letting go of Sam’s hair and letting him pull back a little. Out of breath Sam looked up at his brother, horror and disgust painted on his face. There was a hint of excess water in his eyes, but he refused to acknowledge that fact. He refused to cry in front of his brother. Or what was left of him.

 

“Dean…“ Sam said, trying to phrase a plea just somewhat coherent – but his voice betrayed him as it cracked, leaving him silent and just staring up at his brother helplessly.

 

“Suck it!” Dean growled, eyes narrowed and his otherwise full lips now turned into narrow and angry lines. The blazing fury in his eyes made Sam visibly tremble and he was certain that they flashed pitch black. They had to. Because this couldn’t be his brother.

 

“No…!” Sam said, trying to keep his voice as even and firm as he could. But he failed. Instead it just sounded broken. Broken and miserable and horrified.

 

Dean glared down at him, stone-faced and relentless. And slowly he let his free hand slip into his briefs again, pulling out his cock. Instinctively Sam turned his face away – but a hiss escaped him when the blade pierced his skin again, this time drawing a dark red line across his throat and forcing him to turn his head back.

 

“Come on, Sammy… Don’t be such a prude,” Dean said flatly, waving his rock hard erection in front of Sam’s face as if that was going to somehow entice him. Screwing his eyes shut now that he couldn’t turn away Sam shuddered.

 

“No!” he repeated, shocked at how alien his voice sounded. He almost didn’t recognize it.

 

“Haven’t you forgotten about something?” Dean asked, tapping the knife suggestively against Sam’s throat again. But Sam refused to react. He just sat there on his knees with his eyes closed and didn’t move a muscle. Raising an eyebrow in something which resembled excitement Dean sent Sam a superior smirk which he of course couldn’t see. Dean tapped the knife against Sam’s exposed throat once more.

 

“Or maybe you haven’t. But that pretty mouth of yours is useless if I slit your throat, right?” Dean chuckled, leaning down towards Sam ever so slightly. The warmth of his breath hit Sam’s face in gusts of moist air and his stomach churned painfully.

 

“Just kill me. Get it over with,” Sam said, eyes still closed as he sat there, slumped on his knees on the cold cement floor. Waiting. Hoping that it would just end. Because he couldn’t do this.

 

“Oh, but that wouldn’t be any fun!” Dean grinned.

 

“That’s why I brought a lil’ something!” he added, suddenly removing the knife from Sam’s throat and tugging himself back into his pants. The sound of soles scraping against the floor followed and confused Sam cracked his eyes open, warily scanning his surroundings. Dean was nowhere to be seen and the door was open, letting a bright ray of light split the dimly lit room in two. Instantly Sam straightened himself back up, pulling at the chains feverishly. The sharp, rattling sound of metal against cement filled the air and he pulled with all of his might, but the heavy chains were impossible to loosen or wriggle out of. Instead he could feel how his wrists were rubbed raw and bloody, a smarting pain throbbing there each time he yanked at the restraints. Giving up on ridding himself of the chains he hurried to get up from his kneeling position, ready to run. But where to? The only exit was the damn door in front of him that Dean had gone through seconds before. A dead end.        

 

“Look what I’ve got!” Dean then suddenly beamed from outside the door and instantly Sam’s eyes flicked up to locate him. Within a second or two his older brother appeared in the doorway, pulling something with him. Something that was moving. Something that was kicking and squirming. Sam’s heart immediately sank. Actually it plummeted to the bottom of his stomach and he froze in his tracks.

 

“Pretty little thing, huh?” Dean said, grabbing a hold of the girl’s chin and lifting her head to have a closer look. Her mouth was covered by a piece of silver duct tape, muffling her terrified screams.

 

“Let her go!” Sam yelled, taking a step towards his brother. But instantly Dean held his knife up to the girl’s throat. The damn knife. Sam had almost forgotten about it for a second.

 

“Ah-ah!” Dean scolded, a playful look now present in his stormy gaze. Sam stopped dead in his tracks. Horrified he watched as Dean caressed the side of the girl’s face with the blade, one arm now slung around her neck. 

 

“Wouldn’t wanna ruin that pretty face, would we, Sammy?” Dean nearly hummed, resting the blade’s tip just below the girl’s cheekbone and letting it linger there.

 

“Dean… Don’t hurt her. You won’t gain anything by hurting her,” Sam said, trying desperately to reason with his brother. Dean merely let out a snort.

 

“Oh yeah? You sure about that?” he said, letting the tip of the curved blade edge itself into the girl’s white skin. A muffled shriek escaped her when the skin split.

 

“No!!!” Sam burst out, automatically taking a step towards his brother. But he quickly remembered that it wouldn’t do anyone any good. If anything he might agitate Dean further and the girl would get hurt worse. And it would be his fault. He had to control himself. He had to. Exhaling raggedly he stopped, shivering as he forced himself to just stand there passively.  

 

“Thought so,” Dean smirked and took a slow step towards Sam, dragging the crying girl with him. Wide-eyed Sam just glared at him, his mind racing to come up with some sort of solution. But he came up short.

 

“I think you know what to do,” Dean said. And with one smooth movement the knife shifted its position from his right hand to his left. Which meant that he was now holding both the girl and the knife with his left, his arm wrapped around her neck tightly while holding the knife at the same time. Leaving his right hand free. Provocatively he waved it at Sam, mimicking a humorous and flirtatious greeting. Then the hand was back at his still open fly, roaming across the hard bulge beneath the briefs, rubbing himself.

 

“I’m aching here, Sammy. Get your ass moving,” he ordered, clearly annoyed that his brother hadn’t already approached him willingly. Shuddering and swallowing down a suddenly formed lump in his throat Sam bit his lip, mind frantically whirling in a frenzy to resolve the situation. But he could see no way out. Other than doing what he was told. His stomach churned by the thought. But despite his mind’s strict orders to stay as far away from Dean as possible he managed to force himself to step closer to him. Slowly and carefully he closed the distance between them until he was only a few feet away. Dean smiled. It almost looked genuine for a moment.

 

“On your knees,” Dean ordered. The girl whimpered and Sam pushed away a whirlwind of protesting thoughts, slowly getting down on his knees once more. His pulse was hammering in his veins so loudly that he almost couldn’t make out what Dean was saying.

 

“Good boy,” his brother said in a breathy voice, pulling his cock free from its tight cotton confinement.  Sam flinched.

 

“Dean, just let her go…” Sam said, his gaze flicking from Dean’s dark eyes to the girl’s panicked ones.

 

“No,” Dean huffed almost as if he was offended. He tightened his grip around the girl’s throat, turning her skin flushed and making her let out choked sounds.

 

“Dean, please…! You got me, alright? You got me where you want me. I’ll do what you want. Please just let her go!” Sam begged, trying to keep himself from charging at Dean and from crumpling to the floor in surrender at the same time.

 

“Don’t be an idiot. Leverage doesn’t work if you let it go,” Dean dead-panned, giving his cock a long stroke. It eagerly bounced upwards, slapping against the bottom of his T-shirt.

 

“Please…!” Sam tried again, blinking at the tears stubbornly trying to form in his eyes. Dean merely tilted his head in that cold, calculating fashion once more.

 

“Blow me,” he said, a crooked smirk forming on his lips. For a moment Sam just looked up at his brother, desperately waiting and hoping for some sort of change of mind. But it didn’t come. A shudder went through Sam and he cast down his glance, letting it settle on the floor between him and his brother’s shoes. And carefully he edged closer to his brother, ignoring his stomach violently churning and bile making its presence known somewhere deep down in his throat. Awkwardly he moved on his knees to settle in front of Dean, arms and hands still helplessly trapped behind his back. Useless.

 

Taking a deep breath Sam screwed his eyes shut and opened his mouth, leaning forwards a little. He didn’t have to wait long. Within a few seconds the warm and spongy head of Dean’s cock was resting heavily on his bottom lip, smearing pre-cum on his skin. The salty and bitter taste instantly spread from his lips to his mouth, invading it with such intensity that Sam had to concentrate not to gag. It didn’t taste that bad. It wasn’t like he didn’t know the taste at all. But this was his brother. This was his brother’s dick in his mouth. An involuntary whimper escaped Sam by the thought and he trembled.

 

“I’m not gonna do it for ya, Sammy. You’re gonna have to put a little work into it,” Dean said in a husky voice, slapping his cock against Sam’s lips for emphasis. Feeling his cheeks burn in humiliation Sam took another deep breath. Trying to shut down all logical, screaming thought in his head he opened his mouth a little wider and leaned forwards more – taking in his brother the best he could without gagging. He couldn’t help but let out a small, choked sound when he forced himself to close his lips around the pulsating shaft. Dean was big. Bigger than he thought. And rock hard. Sam’s hands turned into fists behind his back, nails digging marks the shape of crescent moons into his palms as a way to try and distract himself from what was happening.

 

“My, my… Look at him go, darling,” Dean groaned, gripping the girl a little tighter and breathing in her scent, burying his face in the crook of her neck. 

 

“But I think he can do better, don’t you?” he asked her, grazing her skin with his teeth and bucking his hips slightly. Sam suppressed the sudden nausea washing through him from the nudge of the cock against the back of his throat, but he couldn’t hold back a choked cough. Dean let out an amused chuckle.

 

“Aww, that’s cute…” he mocked, but tightened his vice-like grip around the girl more. She wheezed from behind the duct tape, her windpipe squeezed effectively shut.

 

“I’m waiting, Sammy,” he said matter-of-factly. The threat was clear.

Coughing again but trying to override it mentally, Sam hurried to take his brother in as far as he could go. As the thick head of Dean’s cock rammed into the back of his throat Sam couldn’t help but splutter and gag, tears finally breaking free from his eyes and running down his cheeks in long trails. He tightened his lips carefully, trying to do whatever might get Dean off the fastest. He thought that he was going to throw up – but the sheer fear of what might happen if he did sent such icy chills down his spine that he was able to ignore the urge to spill his lunch. He didn’t dare. He didn’t even dare to think about the consequences.

 

“Fuck…” Dean groaned into the side of the girl’s neck, finally loosening his grip around her a little. Relief washed through Sam when he heard her take in a big gulp of air through her nose, heaving and wheezing to get enough oxygen back into her system.

 

“Fuck, Sammy…” Dean growled from somewhere deep in his throat, looking down at his brother as he bobbed up and down on his cock.

 

Sam’s trapped hands had turned a milky white color as he clenched them into fists, long fingers digging and scraping against his own skin and drawing blood. He needed the distraction. Anything. Anything else. Anything but what was happening right now. Dean was grunting obscenely above him and he tried to block out the sound. He didn’t want to hear his brother make such noises. And especially not when he was the one causing them. Bile rose in Sam’s throat again and he gagged, barely managing not to be sick.

 

“Don’t you fucking puke!!” Dean barked angrily. The warning seemed to echo in the room and Sam swallowed feverishly, trying to get his throat to relax. But no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t get his body to comply. He remained tensed up, muscles stiff and awkwardly frozen because he didn’t dare to move anything but his head. His knees were digging painfully into the rough cement floor. But he welcomed the pain. It made it easier to focus on something else than his brother’s cock ramming in and out of his mouth. Dean had started thrusting and Sam was trying his best to adjust to the new and faster pace, trying desperately not to get pushed backwards from the force of Dean eagerly bucking his hips against him.

 

“Use your tongue, Sammy,” Dean coaxed, breathing heavily. Hurrying to comply Sam tried to swirl his tongue around Dean’s thick length and ended up coughing when excess saliva and pre-cum threatened to clog up his throat. A chuckle escaped Dean.

 

“Thatta boy!” he moaned, starting to thrust harder and faster. Despite his various attempts to distract himself Sam couldn’t help but pick up on the fact that the thrusts were slowly become erratic. Dean was getting close.

 

“Such a good, little cocksucker,” Dean said, his back starting to arch ever so slightly. Trying his best to keep going in the same way to push Dean over the edge and get it over with Sam sucked and swirled his tongue in earnest, ignoring the nausea threatening to overwhelm him. Long ropes of saliva and pre-cum were dangling from Sam’s chin, mixed in with tears still flowing freely from his eyes.

 

A deep, guttural sound came from Dean and he stalled a little, muscles close to cramping up. Loosening his grip around the girl’s throat a little more he looked down at Sam. The look of his brother, tied up and on his knees sucking him off almost sent him over the edge straight away, but he managed to calm himself just enough to avoid spilling his load.

 

“You swallow…!” he then groaned.

 

“You swallow it all, Sammy! You miss one drop and she dies! You got that?!” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes scrunching up and hips thrusting harder. A choked sound escaped Sam. A sound trying to communicate that he understood. A sound of compliance. And a sound of defeat. Utter defeat.

 

With shoulders tense and pulled almost up to his ears Sam tried to withstand the increasing force of Dean’s thrusts, leaning forwards more and more to avoid being shoved backwards on to the floor. Because with his hands chained behind his back there was nothing to hold on to. Gagging and drooling around his brother’s cock Sam spluttered, trying to stay upright.

 

Dean’s brutal thrusts grew more and more erratic, his breath hitching as he clutched the girl tight enough for her to let out a pained cry. Sam wanted to look up to see if she was okay, but he couldn’t. The angle and the tears in his eyes didn’t allow him to. And he didn’t dare to try.

 

“Fuck, yes, Sammy!!” Dean growled, his entire body tensing up and a spasm rolling through him.

 

Sam couldn’t breathe. His throat was blocked by his brother’s thick cock and panic immediately rippled through him, urging him to pull back and away. But he didn’t. Instead he sat on his knees, letting Dean ram himself as far down his throat as he could go – spurts of salty and sticky cum shooting out in hard jets. Suppressing a violent cough when the bitter liquid coated the inside of his throat and threatened to choke him Sam forced himself to swallow. And he did. But it seemed like it wasn’t working. His mouth kept feeling so full that he was scared that he might spill some of it and petrified he desperately kept making his throat do a swallowing motion. Swallow, swallow, swallow – he repeated it inside his mind, like a sick mantra. He couldn’t spill. He couldn’t spill one drop. Or he would kill her. Mind spinning in a panic Sam kept swallowing and finally the amount of cum in his mouth seemed to decrease a little, leaving just enough room for him to take a ragged, spluttering breath.

 

Dean’s roar which had been filling the air for the last couple of seconds finally seemed to die down and the heavy cock in Sam’s mouth twitched and slowly started shrinking. Heaving for air Sam desperately lapped at it, trying to lick off any and all missed drops of cum. He tried to be as thorough as possible, swiping his tongue back and forth over every inch of the veiny flesh. He couldn’t miss any. He couldn’t.

 

“Fucking hell…” Dean moaned, pulling himself out of Sam’s abused mouth, slapping his now almost flaccid cock against his swollen lips on the way.

 

“Greedy, aren’t you?” he grinned, tugging himself back into his pants.

 

The girl was slumped against Dean, eyes wide in terror and limbs numb from fear. She didn’t dare to move. Neither did Sam. He just sat there, a wary and alert gaze scanning the dirty cement floor by his knees for any missed drops of cum. Covered in sweat he came to the conclusion that he had succeeded in swallowing every last drop of his brother’s sperm, because he couldn’t spot anything but drool and tears on the floor. With cheeks burning Sam kept his gaze locked on the floor, fixing on a little pebble a shoe had probably dragged in. His stomach churned, stubbornly trying to rid itself of its contents but he kept it down. He had to. Staring at the pebble he swallowed down the mix of bile and cum which kept trying to rush up through his throat.

 

“Man, I should’ve done this sooner,” Dean breathed heavily and smiled, shaking the girl lightly as if he wasn’t sure if he had her full attention.

 

“You need some training, sure. But damn, Sammy…” he said, leaning his head back a little as he laughed.

 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there,” he said, petting Sam’s head with his free hand. Flinching Sam automatically ducked a little – and Dean’s words sent a whole new wave of horror through him. Was he going to do this again? Wasn’t he finished? Instantly extra droplets of sweat emerged everywhere on Sam’s body and he shuddered.

 

“Yeah, we’ll definitely get there,” Dean assured, letting out a short chuckle when Sam cowered under his touch.

 

“N-Now will you let her go…?” Sam rasped lowly. Surprised at how foreign his own voice suddenly sounded, he kept his gaze firmly locked on the little pebble on the floor. He couldn’t look at his brother. Or the girl. In fact he felt like he would never be able to look anyone in the eye again. Not after this.

 

A huff came from Dean and he suddenly grabbed a handful of Sam’s hair and pulled, forcing him to tilt his head upwards. Avoiding eye contact Sam winced. Passive and subdued he settled his gaze on a loose thread sticking out from a hem in the girl’s blouse instead.

 

“No, of course I won’t,” Dean then stated, seemingly amused. Sam managed to swallow a desperate whimper just before it could make its way out of his mouth. But in the same moment a sharp pain rippled through him when Dean’s knee caught him in the side with a loud ‘smack’, knocking the wind out of him completely. Before he knew it the world did a barrel roll and he landed on the cement floor, stars dancing before his eyes. He didn’t know what was up and what was down and almost blinded by the pain shooting through him he tried to curl into a ball to protect himself the best he could. Only he wasn’t fast enough and Dean landed a solid kick to his gut, sending him flipping onto his back with a choked sound. The world seemed to fill with white static like an old TV screen and Sam felt his consciousness fade. He was passing out. Desperately trying to cling on to consciousness he managed to turn onto his side with a groan – gaze focusing automatically on the little pebble from before. It wasn’t far from his face. Still it faded in and out of focus and Sam blinked, trying to clear his vision. He had to get up. He couldn’t leave the girl with Dean. He had to help her. He couldn’t…

 

“Sleep tight, Sammy,” Dean’s gravelly voice said and another blow sent an excruciating shockwave of pain through Sam’s body. And this time the pebble faded completely, leaving Sam plunging into the black void of unconsciousness.       

 

 

 


End file.
